


my heart sings (for you)

by memento_amare



Series: snapshots in time [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Some Humor, please hold out for the ending I promise it's worth it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memento_amare/pseuds/memento_amare
Summary: you return home from tokyo, to a boy you had hoped was promised to you.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Reader
Series: snapshots in time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029228
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	my heart sings (for you)

the journey from tokyo to miyagi is a quiet affair. the train, thankfully, isn’t too crowded, and you’re lucky enough to have one corner all for you. the air slowly but surely shifts from the slight hints of city smoke and bustle to the sharp and clean smell of your hometown. for your family to call you back from your duties in the city meant that this was a serious affair. 

in any other case, returning would be a cause of elation, but now, it is a source of dread. 

-

you learn of it through a letter. first, your parents, asking you to come home on an extremely urgent matter. what it was, they did not say.

the next letter is from nao, and you open it quickly, hoping that at least she would try to sneak in an explanation to this bizarre request.

_(nee-sama, there has been some shocking news around town. apparently, eita-kun is going to be proposing to someone soon. no one knows who the mystery woman is, but town rumours point to kanamiya reiko._

_there’s going to be an engagement party in the semi household. they’re rich, so i suppose they could afford it.)_

there was no warning, no mention of any girl in his letters, nor tendou’s, for that matter. you feel your heart break with the words that follow.

_(nee-sama, i thought it would be you, to be honest.)_

the pieces of your heart cut through your lungs like broken glass, and you bleed in the ink of your sister’s words. the parchment in your hands feels more like a death sentence now. than it is a letter. 

_yeah. i thought so too._

-

when the train stops at miyagi station, you grab your trunk from the overhead, jostling through the crowd to get to the exit. once you alight, it’s easy to spot the shock of red hair and the signature gleeful smile of your dear friend.

“y/n-chan!”

“tendou!” you grin widely, jogging the last few steps before standing before him. the letter from your sister said that he is to pick you up, and after dropping your things at your house, would take you straight to the semi’s. 

you push any thought of that to the back of your mind, focusing instead on the boy before you.

he raises his hand, and you smack it away from your head, already used to his tricks. “i fixed my hair this morning, don’t mess it up.” he laughs, lowering it to pinch your cheek instead. you whine.

“come on, can’t i be happy to see you?” 

you soften at that. “yeah, it’s good to see you.”

-

home has never looked so homely, though perhaps it’s just the years you have been away. tendou doesn’t allow you much time, saying that you’re both _‘on a tight schedule’_. 

reluctantly, you pull yourself away, returning to the _genkan_ to put your shoes back. the ride to the semi’s house fills you with dread. 

“we’re almost there,” tendou says, looking out the window. you hum in agreement. as the houses pass, you steel yourself for the coming ordeal. you will be the dear childhood friend coming home to wish him a happy marriage, and that will be that.

-

your mother is the first to greet you.

“y/n, dear!” you’re barely out of the vehicle before she has you in her embrace. you stumble, but her arms hold you steady. (as they always do.)

smiling, your arms wind around her as well, warm and familiar and soft. you mumble into the fabric of her blouse. “hello, _okaa-sama._ i missed you.”

she releases you with an affectionate sigh, appraising you from head to toe. “i hope tokyo’s treating you well?”

“yes,” you smile, “but nothing’s quite like coming home.” she nods in approval. you look around. “where is _otou-sama?_ ”

“oh! he’s playing chess with the other men, though he said you can join them whenever you’d like.” you beam, already excited at the prospect of a game.

“and nao?”

“in the music room, i think.” your heart swells with fondness at the thought of your little sister. she’s been practicing, she told you in your letters, and eita has been kind enough to lend her advice when they happen upon each other.

frowning to yourself, you venture into the house, shaking it away. you can’t let your thoughts return to him at every possible opportunity.

except it’s impossible here, in this house with the passageways as familiar as your own. each room brims with memories and nostalgia of childhood friendship, and you find yourself peeking at courtyard with a wistful smile, remembering the days of hide-and-seek.

you navigate through the passageways, down the hall and to the right, where you know the beautiful grand piano sits. a beautiful melody floats through the air. _debussy_. the door is slightly ajar, and you open it further, careful not to disturb. 

you gasp. _this isn’t nao._

the ash blond and brown tips are instantly recognizable, and though his back is turned, you see the subtle sway of his body, in time with the cadence of the music. he hasn’t registered your presence. _good._ swallowing, you slowly move to close the door. the hinge creaks.

he turns around, the music halting, and for the second time, your breath catches in your throat.

his jawline is more pronounced, though there are still traces of the baby fat from your youth. the turn of his brows is less severe, but his brown eyes are just as piercing as you remember them to be.

his eyes widen, lips parting.

“eita.” the name pulls from your lips, against your will.

“you’re back,” he breathes, standing up. his voice sparks a sensation through your nerves, and you heart speeds up impossibly fast. there’s something unexplainably soft in his gaze, something that the years have made you think was a conjuring of your fantasies.

suddenly, you’re eighteen again—eighteen, swept up in a fantasy of falling in love with your best friend. eighteen, and about to leave to earn your family living. 

you enter the room fully, though you keep the door open behind you. he steps away from the piano, beginning to close the distance. 

“i am.” you confirm, shifting your hands to link behind your back. “where’s nao? kaa-sama told me she’d be here. 

he exhales. “she was, but she went down, looking for you.” his last step brings him right in front of you, and you repress the urge to run far, far away. he still smells the same, a mix of sandalwood and piano lacquer and home.

you swallow, hard. “ah. i see.” he’s close, much too close, and though you don’t leave, you subtly take a tiny step away, to give yourself a modicum of decency. “congratulations, by the way.” you muster a gentle smile. (you hope it isn’t too pained.) 

his eyebrows furrow in confusion, but as he opens his mouth to speak, a voice rings at the door.

“nee-sama!” you jump, whipping your head away from him. he takes a step back too, partially in shock, and your sister barges in, hands already outstretched.

“nao!” you cry happily, rushing to greet her with a tight embrace. she buries her face into the crook of your neck.

“you’re back!” her wide grin mirrors your own, and you appraise her fondly, holding her shoulders.

“you’re so _tall_ now! how unfair, i was never that tall at your age.” she only sniggers at you, sticking her tongue out childishly. you pinch her cheek in retaliation, snickering as she begins to whine.

“nee-sama, stop!”

“i’ll, ah, leave you two now.” you forgot the presence still in the room, and you turn to eita, hand releasing your sister’s cheek. she rubs it ruefully.

he smiles, gaze soft. “welcome back, y/n.” he gives your sister a friendly nod before exiting the room, leaving you more flustered than you should be.

-

“he’s _awful_ for flirting with you like that!” you had just finished retelling the events in your shared bath, and now you’re brushing through her hair, untangling the damp strands. nao waves her arms wildly, the mirror in front of you reflecting her scowl. 

“what do _you_ know about flirting, hmm? is there something you need to tell me about?” an impish smile spreads across your face.

“ _no._ ” she says the words a little too quickly. 

“tell me _now._ ”

“nee-sama!” your face shifts into a more serious expression.

“he wasn’t flirting, nao-chan,” you continue to move the brush in measured strokes. “besides, i was being foolish, putting myself in the same room with an engaged man, alone.” above her, you frown, pushing semi’s soft gaze to the back of your mind. _it wasn’t flirting_.

“the engagement party is tomorrow, and we’re gonna go there and be _proper_ ladies. no buts.” she pouts at you. you smile ruefully, setting the brush down on the table. “sorry nao-chan, but we can’t ruin this for eita and kanamiya-san.”

“you should probably stop calling him eita.”

“…right.”

-

the house is filled with people: eita’s family greet you with smiles and wondering appraisals, and you catch up with your old friends (tendou has somehow dragged ushijima and shirabu). you linger here, with them, though somehow, your eyes linger across the room, where he is. he’s wearing his signature half-scowl, probably the object of his fiancée and the rest of his music classmates’ teasing.

you wish kanamiya reiko were a bad person.

it would have been easy to hate her if she were, easy to justify in your mind that you were the better match. except she isn’t.

she’s effortlessly charming, with a sweet smile and lovely, dainty hands that probably played the piano just as well as he did. 

reiko introduces herself to you with a beaming smile and eager bow, clasping your hand between hers and saying that eita had told her so much about you, and that she hoped you to to be the best of friends as well.

“although of course, i don’t presume us to have the closeness you do with him,” she laughs, and even _that_ is pretty. you could only manage a meek nod, all your normal bravado gone.

you try to avoid him as much as you can, but it seems as though people are pushing you to him; even reiko herself. confused, your left in an awkward triad with the two betrothed, listening politely to her as she narrates eita’s latest slip-up in music school.

“ _please_ , it was one time,” he groans, lifting his drink to cover his embarrassed face.

“anything you do _one time_ is bound to happen again, you know,” you snicker, glad that your voice is passably light. beside you, reiko laughs in agreement.

“y/n, you’re supposed to have my back here,” he complains, shooting you a dirty glance, though the fondness hasn’t left his eyes. you shift, turning your gaze away from him.

“no way, ask kanamiya-san to cover for you.” something presses uncomfortably in your heart and you stand, resting your drink on the table. the two look up at you, confused.

“please excuse me for a moment.” reiko whispers something and he quickly stands, moving to grip your wrist. you raise your arm before he manages to.

“wait, y/n—“

you leave their presence, but not before you hear reiko worriedly say, “eita, shouldn’t you talk to her?” noting with a horrible pang the familiarity with which she calls him by his first name. you don’t wait for his response, too tired to be hurt again.

-

ever since childhood, your heart has beat in the rhythm of eita’s fingers. it began as a whisper, a barely-formed thought. the words were words still floating, no lyrics formed yet. each growing fondness poked out from your ribs like a brass cylinder, and his gaze became the metal comb that makes it sing. 

eita cranks the metal lever of your heart, and it churns a song meant only for him. 

those days are gone.

you left the shrapnel pieces of your music box heart on the carpet of your room in tokyo. at least, that was what was _supposed_ to happen.

“why the long face, y/n-chan?” looking to your side, you manage a bleak smile.

“hey, tendou.” he seats himself beside you, reveling in the view. it’s a small garden, but lovely nonetheless. the sunlight filters through the trees in patterns of light and shadow. “just… wondering about things that could have been.” 

“i was surprised too, honestly.”

“yeah.” you breathe. “it’s alright. they make a lovely pair.” a gentle wind blows, the subtle dancing of the leaves soothing your aching heart.

(you still carry the pieces with you. they ache with a song that can’t be played.)

-

“one more game,” you beg, already putting the pieces back to their starting positions. across you, mr. semi stifles a low rumble of laughter.

“of course.” the years have softened his eyes, lending crow’s feet to its edges, but you still remember the distinct softness with which eita’s grandfather carried himself. 

your father sighs, though there’s no real bite behind it. “stop leaving your pieces open.” you pout.

“i had them guarded! and don’t say that when i beat you this time, _tou-sama_.” across you, mr. semi’s shoulders shake, a deep, rumbling laughter leaving his throat.

“she’s right,” he says fondly, helping you arrange the pieces. from the door, a head peeks inside.

“is y/n here?” you freeze at the voice, heart picking up immediately.

“yes?” you school your features into nonchalance, glancing at the board for a moment when his grandfather moves a piece forward. 

“may i speak to you for a moment?” 

the excuse readily slips your lips. “it’s the middle of a game.” pointedly, you pick your king’s pawn, moving it two squares forward. from the corner, your father speaks.

“go, y/n. let me have a game while you’re gone. it’s only two moves in.” the corner of his mouth quirks up, through your pleading glance. you don’t _understand_. why is he smiling?

mr. semi nods in agreement. “white and black played king’s gambit. it’ll be here when you return.” reluctantly, you stand, leaving the room. 

-

following eita through the hallways, you stop before the door of the music room. you look at him quizzically. “what are we doing here?” his expression is unreadable as he opens the door.

“no one will disturb us, if that’s what you’re worried about.” he moves forward, clasping your hand in his.

you flinch, yanking your hand away as though he burned you. it probably wouldn’t be too far from the truth; the heat is rapidly crawling up your neck and cheeks. “what are you doing?” 

propriety and etiquette fly through your brain like a frantic song, fluttering until you can hardly distinguish each note. 

“are you trying to cause a _scandal_?”

he raises an eyebrow. “would you like to?” 

“ _no._ ” your cheeks grow hotter, if that were even possible. your hand moves to the door, but he catches your wrist before you manage to turn the knob. 

“why are you avoiding me? i need to ask you something. _please_.” you squirm, trying to release your hand from his hold.

“i’m _not_. i’m _giving_ you time with your betrothed!” you manage to release his grip, and you stagger for a moment, quickly regaining your footing. 

(for a wild moment, your mind wanders to your clothes— _thank god i didn’t fall, these heels are killing me._ )

“what are you _talking_ about?” his temper is beginning to flare too, and he struggles to maintain his voice. you’re not fazed, tokyo’s practices of propriety flying out the window.

“what do you mean? you-this is your engagement party!”

“no! it’s-it’s a pre-emptive party by my parents and i was _supposed_ to at be ready to call it off but you’re not letting me _talk_ to you!”

he releases it all in one breath, chest heaving. you stand before him, mouth slack, trying to comprehend his words.

“what do you mean, pre-emptive party?”

he runs his hand through his hair. “i-i was going to ask you to marry me, but my parents and yours already apparently agreed to it, and-“ your brain short-circuits.

“wait.” you sit down on a nearby chair, the confusion of the moment making you feel lightheaded. “you mean to tell me this isn’t an engagement party between you and kanamiya reiko?”

“ _what?_ ” the bafflement on his features is so real, so visceral that you’d probably laugh under normal circumstances. “is that what the townsfolk are saying? and what you thought?”

“y-yeah. even nao and tendou thought so.” he pinches his nose, the aggravation coming off him in waves. there are a million other questions that hang on your tongue, things like, _did reiko know? do your friends know? how come no one told me about it?_

you push them all down.

hesitantly, you reach out, touching his fingers. “you want to marry me? three years after leaving you?”

he chokes a strangled laugh. “is that pathetic of me? i… i’m sorry i said nothing in my letters. i resigned myself into hoping to do it upon your return, if you’d still have me by then.”

you chest flutters, a warbled song beginning to sing. the notes spring, unbidden but hopeful. you swallow. “but there was no guarantee of when that would be-”

“it would have been of no consequence. the only thing that would have stopped me is if you were taken by someone else in that time.” the thought snaps him to sobriety, and he whirls to face you, eyes wide. “are you?”

your ears burn, red hot. “n-no.”

exhaling, he breathes, “okay.” slowly, his hands move to intertwine with yours. he kneels, putting himself lower than your seated figure. the blush that had settled down is steadily returning, crawling up your cheeks and up to the tips of your ears. it’s blatantly obvious, what he’s doing.

you manage a breathy laugh, the urge to tease taking over anything on your mind. “must you _really?_ ” 

he pointedly ignores you, instead clasping your hands in both of his. your breath catches in your throat.

“l/n y/n,” he begins. “i, uh, i’m not very good with words or feelings, but please let me try, just this once.

“when you left for tokyo, i didn’t know what to do. i regretted being afraid of this, of the feeling that you gave me. i wrote it off, thinking i was wrong, but when you returned that day, everything i pushed away came rushing back. 

“i know three years is a long time, but… but i know we had _something_ , even though it was never said.” the blush is well and truly overtaking your cheeks; you probably look less a girl and more like a tomato.

“so, would you do me this honor? would you have me?”

through his mini-speech, tears have began to form in your eyes, and by the end, they run freely down your face. you launch yourself up from your seat, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

what other answer is there to give?

“yes.” you fist your hands in his jacket, pressing your face against his chest. “i’m sorry it’s been so long, i’m sorry i left, i’m sorry i didn’t let you talk-”

he hushes you, pressing a kiss to your crown. his arms encircle your waist, pulling you tightly against him. “no, i’m sorry it took me this long. i should have asked you a long time ago.”

“did you write that, by the way?” you choke-laugh. “not bad.”

he sniffs, half indignant, half fond. “only for you.”

here, in his warmth, you could hardly care about any kind of propriety. your music box heart opens, a little wobbly from emotion, but healed and functioning nonetheless. it sings a tune, high and sweet, open for all the world to see.


End file.
